there are times
when you wonder why
you keep doing what you do
digging that hole
a little deeper
day by day
is it because the blind dumb sides
forever in a circle
offer the comfort of the grave
as the small plug of sky recedes
we lose sense of what it is
it becomes a circle of blue paint
sealing up that last escape
If I had written this
in first person
it could be construed
as overly pessimistic
even suicidal
that's why
I didn't
....







18 old applause
